Behind her walked Della, a combination of purple asters and golden rod, the rosettes of the former seeming a rich and solid material from which the heads of goldenrod hung in a delicate fringe.

A “long-haired Chrysanthemum” was among the autumn flowers, his tissue paper petals slightly wired to make them stand out, and a stalk of Joe-Pye-Weed strode along with his dull pink corymb proudly elevated above the throng.

All alone as a representative of Winter was Tom Watkins, decorated superbly as a Christmas Tree.  Boughs of Norway spruce were bound upon his arms and legs and covered his body.  Shining balls hung from the twigs, tinsel glistened as he passed under the lantern light, and strings of popcorn reached from his head to his feet.  There was no question of his popularity among the children.  Every small boy who saw him asked if he had a present for him.

The flower procession served to draw the people into the hall and the screened corner.  They cheerfully yielded up a dime apiece at the entrance to each place, and when the “show” was over they were re-replaced by another relay of new arrivals, so that the program was gone through twice in the hall and twice in the open in the course of the evening.

A march of all the flowers opened the program.  This was not difficult, for all the boys and girls were accustomed to such drills at school, but the effect in costumes under the electric light was very striking.  Roger, still dressed as an apple tree, recited Bryant’s “Planting of the Apple Tree.”  Dicky delivered a brief sermon from his pulpit.  George Foster ordered the lights out and went behind a screen on which he made shadow finger animals to the delight of every child present.  Mrs. Smith gave her little talk on the arrangement of flowers, illustrating it by the examples around the room which were later carried out to the open when she repeated her “turn” in the enclosure.  The cartoonist of the Star gave a chalk talk on “Famous Men of the Day,” reciting an amusing biography of each and sketching his portrait, framed in a rose, a daisy, mountain laurel, a larkspur or whatever occurred to the artist as he talked.

There was music, for Mr. Schuler, who formerly had taught music in the Rosemont schools and who was now with his wife at Rose House, where the United Service Club was taking care of several poor women and children, had drilled some of his former pupils in flower choruses.  One of these, by children of Dicky’s age, was especially liked.

Every one was pleased and the financial result was so satisfactory that Rosemont soon began to blossom like the flower from which it was named.

“Team work certainly does pay,” commented Roger enthusiastically when the Club met again to talk over the great day.

And every one of them agreed that it did.

CHAPTER XII

ENOUGH TO GIVE AWAY